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THE DEATH OF THE 
DISCOVERER, 



BY 



WILLIS STEELL 




NEW YORK 

HILLIER MURRAY & COMPANY^ 

PHILADELPHIA 



THE DEATH OF THE DISCOVERER 



BOOKS BY WILLIS STEELL. 



The Whole Truth. 

Mortal Lips. 

In Seville. 

Isidra. 

The Death of the Discoverer. 



THE DEATH OF THE DISCOVERER 



BY 

WILLIS STEELL 



HILLIER MURRAY & CO., Publishers, 
Philadelphia and New York. 









T:^? 



Copyrighted, 1892, 

BY 

Willis Steell. 
^(AU Rights Reserved.) 



P. F. McBreen, Printer, 

Club Pkess, 

New York. 



;^^ 



TO 



THE DEATH OF THE DISCOVERER. 



The Persons, 

Dona Beatrice Enriques. 
Marchioness of Moya. 
Fernando Columbus. 
Christopher Columbus. 



THE DEATH OF THE DISCOVERER. 



Segovia, November, 1504, 
Scene. — The patio of the palace of the Marchioness of Moya. 



MARCHIONESS. 

Beatrice. 

BEATRICE. 

Madame ? 

MARCHIONESS. 

San Lucar comes to-day. What answer ? 

BEATRICE. 

A stale one ; tell him to come no more. 

MARCHIONESS. 

May I speak plainly ? You are foolish, friend, 
And your's is not the age of folly : — Your son 
Grows fast, proportionately wane his hopes, 
Which rest in you. Why not wed this man ? 



lo Death of the Discoverer, 

BEATRICE. 

I am not marriageable, madame. 

MARCHIONESS. 

Oh, fie ! your fault — a girl's enthusiasm — 
Long since o'ergrown by fond maternal cares, 
A woman's moss and ivy, is forgot. 
There's no scar in the landscape, — thou'rt a maid. 

BEATRICE. 

No, Marchioness, Fernando is my son. 

MARCHIONESS. 

A widow then, we'll call you so. 

BEATRICE. 

Wedded to a memory which dies not, 
Save on my bier, I am not a widow. 

MARCHIONESS. 

The Admiral is dead, weep not, poor friend, 

Too much of water he hath had already. 

I loved him too. When first at Court I saw him, 

I felt an inward shock, presentiment 

Told me this man would one day win the world. 

He was the man likest that cloudy thing 



Death of the Discoverer, 1 1 

Called up by girlish magic in the convent. 

Columbus ! I see his face where youth, 

Eternal youth, married with riper age ; 

Thought-pale and line strewn, as a man's should be ; 

A palimpsest which takes a second writing, 

Yet guards the first ; — Lofty towards man, 

Most reverent towards Heaven. 

I loved him with no earthly love, Beatrice, 

But as a prophet, as God's messenger. 

'Twas written he should find his first apostle 

In a woman ; in me or in the Queen ; 

Perhaps in neither ; I have my fancy. 

Say when you saw him first, Beatrice, 

First heard him speak. 

BEATRICE. 

Marchioness, as you will. 
It was at Cordova, where he staid. 
Waiting an answer from the sovereigns. 
Who sat at Toledo ; a month had lagged. 
Since he, a stranger on a borrowed mule. 
Climbed to the stern and rock-ribbed Alcazar. 



1 2 Death of the Discoverer, 

The letters which he brought were read with scorn, 

Or never read at all. So without hope 

To share with friends — but he had none — he came 

Into my natal city. Yet did he not depart 

Without attempting one by one the lords, 

Either at home or on the Zocodover, 

With prophecy of gain and high emprise. 

Alas ! he found some harsh, some proud, 

Others contemptuous, fed by revenge and spite, 

Or driven by the barking of the priests. 

Others were keen to listen, but their aim 

Would unlock their neighbor's coffers, not their own. 

And those who might have served knew not the Queen, 

Whom else they would have sold. Being reduced 

To misery, from fear of things ignoble, 

He fled to Cordova, there made maps for sale, 

And nourished hope. I saw him first at mass. 

Then daily met him in the Christian mosque. 

Whither I went alone. I cannot now 

Blame what befell me — it was happiness — 

Upon the man who was my choice delight. 



Death of the Discoverer, 13 

I am of them who loving must be loved, 
Whose love seeks love, therefore I tempted him. 
I feared lest he might leave me and gave all, 
Which being kept had held him by my side. 
O, yes, I plead his cause ! He talked 
More of that hemisphere, since bodied forth 
But then a heresy, more of the round earth 
Than Venus's zone. I, by woman's wiles 
Narrowed the speech to us. The gain and loss 
God justly meted out, yet I went free, 
While he whose life blazed up in worthiest deed 
Now chars obscure. 

MARCHIONESS. 

Beatrice, calm yourself. 
The reck'ning's paid, the Admiral is dead. 

BEATRICE. 

I feel not so, I know he is not dead. 

MARCHIONESS. 

Ovando — 

BEATRICE. 

Lied, lady ; a base courtier. 
Who snatched his crown would dote to have him so. 



14 Death of the Discoverer . 

MARCHIONESS. 

Grant you are right : say on. 

BEATRICE. 

He showed me maps, 
Globes, raised in my mind new thoughts, set me adrift, 
Upon a sea — the problems of the world. 
O, I was glad to go ! Gladly in truth 
Had I embarked on a frail raft with him. 
He bade me tell all wild imaginings. 
Vague, terrible, I had dreamed or heard. 
Of lands that shared the unbounded with the ocean. 
Whence came such speech to me I knew not, 
Being born inland, but I think from love. 
Inspired by my fond words he would begin 
To count the omens that the sea in storms 
Casts up to tempt men on ; gigantic reeds, 
Strange trees, corpses in human shape, whose flesh 
Shone with a coppery glow. I heard him vow 
To wrest from the abyss a continent lost, 
Restore to Europe the holy Ophir, 
To the Sovereigns Solomon's treasure, 



Death of the Discoverer. 15 

To me rare pearls, bracelets of gold, and myrrh 
To keep my chamber supernatural sweet. 
O yes, I shared his dream ; 'twas thus I knew 
He loved me ! 

MARCHIONESS. 

At length we touch the gist ; 
You knew he loved you — then ? 

BEATRICE. 

Madam, his heart 
Was like a child's — I can no more. 

MARCHIONESS. 

Heaven chose its messenger well ! Another man 

Had failed, Columbus ruled your mind ; the Queen's 

He influenced ; Isabella loved him 

As his design. Who of women would not ? 

Modest, courageous, grave, eloquent, wise, 

Profound ; a noble patience and a mien 

That wore misfortune like a coat of arms. 

Such was he innumerably perfect, 

Divinely stamped ! He won opinion when he spoke, 

And when he smiled, won hearts. Isabella 



1 6 Death of the Discoverer, 

Ne'er wavered in her constancy, 'twas his 

In death. Almost with her last voice she asked 

For tidings of Colon. 

BEATRICE. 

Sat the King by ? 

MARCHIONESS. 

Shame, Beatrice ! a moment since you proved 
Another spirit. Pity felt the Queen, 
Enthusiasm, what you will, not love. 
Could you have seen her at Granada, when 
They said the Man of Destiny had gone 
To heal his hope in France ; — she sought the King, 
" You haggle, Sire," she cried, " be rumor true, 
" Over an empire's price ; an empire. Sire, 
" And with no less than God !" Said Ferdinand, 
^^ The Moors have cost us dear." Isabella, 
When she had gained her end, cried joyfully, 
" The glory be Castile's, the cost be mine !" 
Could you have heard this cry, poor jealous one, 
You might have traced it to a woman's heart, 
Not to a Queen's ! 



Death of the Discoverer. 17 

BEATRICE. 

Would she were living now. 

MARCHIONESS. 

O, that she were ! now a half rooted cause 
Withers for lack of sun, too many tears 
Will rot it ; let's dry our's. You remember 
Columbus as a poor Genovese, for me 
The sailor's blotted out by the return 
Of the Duke Admiral. 

BEATRICE. 

Tell me of him. 

MARCHIONESS. 

The Queen first had the word from Lisbon, 

It could not be surprised, quickly the court 

Fermented, while abroad the trumpets sang 

The high news through the streets ; all business ceased, 

Men neither bought nor sold, scarcely took food, 

As 'twere the morn of resurrection day. 

Ferdinand, till then lukewarm, gained some heat, 

Prostrate before the virgin, Isabella, 

Agonized for the heathen — her first born. 

Messengers sought the coast ; the provinces 



1 8 Death of the Discoverer, 

Ran Spanish noblemen who lost their way 

In Barcelona changed by flags and flowers. 

When dawned the eager day, a long career 

Of laureled arches shaded the procession. 

Ahead marched Indians, the living proof 

Of what had been denied by all our priests. 

Strange, savage shapes were they, O thrice more strange! 

Than Fancy — restless consort of good sense. 

Aye seeking the unwonted — dared to paint, 

Heroes of Greece returned to earth in bronze 

They trod with rippling muscle, proud poised head, 

And on their faces wonder unabased. 

Moorish slaves came next, forty in number, 

Each bearing on his head a dish of gold 

Heaped high with birds and beasts unknown to us. 

Strange plants and precious stones filled more than ten. 

Last, on a charger, richly caparisoned 

From the King's stable, rode the Man ! 

All eyes had sought him, and in that moment 

Malice that tracks the footsteps of the great, 

Venomless sank and cowered at his feet. 

O, that it there had died ! 



Death of the Discoverer, 19 

BEATRICE. 

You tell me naught ; like a poor novelist 
Who hath no wit except to hide his lack, 
You paint the common town. 

MARCHIONESS. 

No hand may paint 
A face transfigured, his, the man inspired 
With courage to uplift the veil of ocean. 
If any sought upon his brow a sign, 
'Twas there to read as sung in Holy Writ. 
Beneath a silken canopy, King and Queen, 
Rested him with themselves ; his solemn count 
They heard with thirsty ears ; when 'twas finished 
The three fell on their knees, as did we all. 
And offered thanks to God. 

BEATRICE. 

O, Madame ! 

MARCHIONESS. 

You weep, poor friend ? I count it bliss to draw 
A breath of joy upon the mountain peak. 
Like wine it warms the level after road. 



2 Death of the Discoverer. 

BEATRICE. 

'Tis not from sorrow. 

MARCHIONESS. 

These are themes that keep me from my household, 

I must go, but I will send Fernando. 

May his sweet face implore thee as I cannot 

To give the Admiral's son an earthly father. 

Attend me, if Columbus now were here 

In spirit, for I fear me he is dead. 

His counsel ran with mine. Adios. 

BEATRICE. 

Adios, Madame. 

[Enter Servant.] 

SERVANT. 

At the reja there is a holy priest 
Who seeks admittance. 

BEATRICE. 

Let him in, and find 
Your mistress, she is but gone. 

SERVANT. 

Madame, 
He asked for you — the Dona Beatrice. 



Death of the Discoverer, 2 1 

BEATRICE. 

He comes from Cordova ; admit him straight. 

[Enter Columbus, wearing the robe of a Franciscan monk.] 

COLUMBUS. 

Peace be upon this house ! 

BEATRICE. 

'Tis yours, father. Sit down and rest. 
Are you from Cordova ? 

COLUMBUS. 

From Seville, lady, and farther yet. 

BEATRICE. 

YouVe voyaged ? 

COLUMBUS. 

To the Indies. 

BEATRICE. 

Columbus ? 

COLUMBUS. 

I come from him. 

BEATRICE. 

'Twas true then ! He is dead. 



2 2 Death of the Discoverer, 

COLUMBUS. 

Still is he conscious when 'tis day or night. 
I was on the caravel which sailed from Cadiz, 
'Twas the Admiral's last voyage. 

BEATRICE. 

He will return ? 

COLUMBUS. 

Say why he should, save to expose himself 
To novel slights of fortune, to renew 
His enemies' scorn ? Excess of misery 
Awaits him here ; he's human and compares 
Times past and present, what he was and is 

BEATRICE. 

Yet has he friends who fain would weep with him, 
Or better, dry his tears. Words are weak. 
But not so weak but they have balm to suage 
The festering mind. Would that he might return ! 

COLUMBUS. 

Would that he might, only to hear you speak. 

Often we expend the coin of friendship 

To have it portioned base ; in prosperous days 



Death of the Discoverer. 23 

Th'exchange rings sound enough, in poor, not so. 
Beatrice, your love shall heal Columbus. 

BEATRICE. 

You're gentle, sir, not as they are at court. 
Speak on, I pray you. 

COLUMBUS. 

No more in that strain. 
The Admiral sends by me for your forgiveness. 

BEATRICE. 

Mine ? Sir, you jest. If he were here that I 
Might vaunt his heroism, salve his sores. 
Match his submission to the will of God ! 
But I cannot forgive. 

COLUMBUS. 

All else were vain. 

BEATRICE. 

You apprehend me not. His nobleness 
Has some infected me. What's to forgive ? 

COLUMBUS. 

Speak not so quickly, madame, spare your ^ransom 
Of this poor haughty man, till you have marked 



24 Death of the Discoverer. 

And counted well the cost. Were he here 

As I am, he would not lightly wish 

Your pity ; he would as he deserved 

Pay his own punishment, and expiate 

Another's anguish. Madame, Beatrice ! 

He's at the pass when all his boasted trophies 

Hang sullen like damp rags, all his hopes 

Have suffered shipwreck, while his days 

Draw near to nature's end. Where seek the cause ? 

In man, or in the King, or in himself ? 

None fits the case. Back, back of all 

Another shipwreck, that of a trusting heart, 

Lies, and his proudest ships shook when they crossed 

Its drowned masts. No strange eye marked its grave. 

But he has never sailed so far away 

He could not chart the place. 

BEATRICE. 

Father, your robe is holy, yet I say 
You badly learned your task ; Columbus 
Has wrought no shipwreck, rather has he saved 
A woman from the emptiness of life. 



Death of the Discoverer. 25 

Say it were so ; since the beginning 
The purest men have erred, and will again. 
How sad I am who thought your visit happy ! 
Because I hear he troubles for another, 
Who has so great dejection in himself. 
Now, antidote your poison, what's to risk ? 

COLUMBUS. 

Madame, he needs your prayers, his plight is sad. 
His tribulation none the less grievous 
Because 'tis graved on marble. Ere he dies 
He would acquit his conscience. Hear him say : 
*^ Never in these long wanderings on the ocean 
Have I in thought neglected that fond heart, 
^ To whom I bring my heart for lightening, 
*' Full as it is of every kind of woe 
^^ 'Twill not run over, if she answer make, 
^^ ^ All I forgive and I reproach thee not !' " 

BEATRICE. 

O, were he here I could not say the words, — 

For joy would hold me speechless ! Blessed hour 

I met Columbus ! Talk no more of that. 



26 Death of the Discoverer. 

Speak of him ; how did you leave him ? Where ? 
Is he like to sail ? And his colonies — 
Prosper they to his taste ? Speak, father ! 

COLUMBUS. 

His life is like a day that begins gray 

And ends in black, at noon the clouds unlace 

To let his name shine briefly on the world. 

So much he had and seeks to be content, 

But age, infirmity and dissension 

Are evils hard to bear, yet in his God 

That led him where he found the key to Ocean^ 

His trust is stout ! Columbus dead, 

The Indies will not die ! 

BEATRICE. {Aside.) 
Who speaks thus, 
So proud, so high ? This, this is he ! 

{Aloud.) He mourns 
Affliction present and forgets the past ? 

COLUMBUS. 

No, O no ! Who caused them, God or the world ? 
God's promises he hath kept unbroken ; 



Death of the Discoverer, 27 

All that God owed he rendered to the brim ; 
Man is man. 

BEATRICE, {Aside.) 

Not yet I'll recognize him, 
But bear his mask awhile ; I could not speak 
Save in this mimic play for crowding tears. 

change that baffled love, can this be he, 
The Admiral, the Discoverer, Columbus ? 

1 loved thee e'er preferment took thy hand, 
I loved thee when my rival was the world. 
Love reckons not by fortune, good or ill. 

So will I prove the ditch where thou art fallen 
Is dearer than the top ; I'll join thee there ! 

COLUMBUS. 

Peace rest upon this house ; I will retire. 

BEATRICE. 

Stay till I understand. {Aside.) Now to betray him. 
{Aloud.) When he sailed Columbus bore with him 
Two hundred men and letters of the King, 
With which to curb Ovando. 



28 Death of the Discoverer, 

COLUMBUS. 

Ovando ! 
His name sticks in my throat ; he a Spaniard ! 
He from a savage beast descended ; 
Imprisoned generations made him tame or seem so. 
For when some blood he tasted, a fury 
Native and uncontrolled seized him again. 
In a tempest, a storm more terrible 
Than man before had ridden, Ovando 
Denied our sails a harbor ; when the winds, 
Less pitiless than he, had cast us up. 
Wrecks on a hostile coast, he let us starve 
Thirteen dire months upon those rotting planks 
Before he sent us food ; he a Spaniard ! 
Would that the caitiff dared to cross the sea, 
I'd have his head of the King ! 

BEATRICE. 

Dear, my lord — 

COLUMBUS. 

You think I speak too harshly, which beseems 
Neither my age or cloth ? To be tied thus 



Death of the Discoverer, 29 

By every human ill passes my strength ; 

To see my enemies in favor, 

My friends banished ; to grieve over the land 

I found a garden and have left a grave ! 

No, it cannot be ! I shall not leave 

You in this piteous plight, my Indians ! 

I am old, but was not Abraham old ? 

Was Sarah young ? Once more I'll trim my sails 

Into the West ! The King must hear me, 

Grant me men and power, as God will give me health, 

Renew my youth, and send me to my own ; 

As fresh in spirit, unsubdued in will. 

Confident of the future — Ah ! 

BEATRICE. 

My heart, you are sick ! Here, some one ! 

COLUMBUS. 

Call not, 
I am better ; what you see is age ; 
Merely to will steals from my remnant. 
Who comes ? 

[Enter Fernando.] 



3© Death of the Discoverer. 

FERNANDO. 

Mother, the Marchioness sent me hither, 
She said you were alone. 

COLUMBUS. 

Who is this ? 
BEATRICE. {Faintly.) 
'Tis Fernando, 'tis my son ! 

COLUMBUS. 

Fernando ! 
How like to thee he is, how like to thee ! 
I had not heard of him — a lovely boy. 
Graceful as youth should be while on his brow 
I mark a serious cast, Beatrice, 
May I kiss the lad ? 

BEATRICE. 

Fernando, greet him 
Father ! 

COLUMBUS. {Embracing Fernando.) 
Is there such happiness reserved for me ? 
Whom the world deems well paid with simple life ? 
My son ! My son ! as stolen from my arms. 
And now restored by the fond thief, I ask 



Death of the Discoverer, 31 

Am I more glad or sad that late I know thee ? 
Once I had marked for thee a lofty place, 
Advanced thee by my side, preserved thee, too, 
From griefs till time had seasoned well thy mind. 
IvOve and ambition bloom not on dead boughs. 
The pride within my soul is humbled now. 
And I am fain to trust me in thy arms. 
Begging a single kiss without more words. 
Why should I set thy mind to pondering 
On what cannot be answered ? 'Tis enough 
That this is thou. Another kiss in love ! 
If I had pictured thee, my son ! my son ! 
'Twould have been thus, remembering thy mother. 
Fernando, what's thy years ? 

FERNANDO. 

Fourteen, father. 

COLUMBUS. 

Dost love thy mother, boy ? 

FERNANDO. 

O, that I do ! 
Why are you weeping, mother ? 



32 Death of the Discoverer, 

COLUMBUS. 

Weep not. To other women leave the tears 
That fall on sterile bosoms when they see 
This motherhood, which compensating comes 
To them that suffer most, but dry your eyes, 
Rejoicing in this son. I prophecy 
You twain shall love each other to the end. 
Yet holy love needs of a trinity, 
Receive a third — 

BEATRICE. 

Yes, yes ! 

COLUMBUS. 

As son and brother, 
Columbus' son Diego, seek him out, 
Fernando, call him brother, and your son 
Make him, Beatrice. O engage to this ! 

BEATRICE. 

Sincere of heart I answer for us both. 

COLUMBUS. 

Let me hence quickly, lend your boyish arm 
Forth to the street, my servant waits without. 



Death of the Discoverer. 33 

BEATRICE. 

Too soon ! 

COLUMBUS. 

All's said, farewell. 

BEATRICE. 

But where — 

COLUMBUS. 

Farewell ! 
[Exeunt Columbus and Fernando.] 

BEATRICE. {Following.) 
You must not leave me thus ! Never a word ! 
I am a coward, when will heart and tongue 
Patch peace and speak together ? Woeful sad 
He looked, yet I'd no word. Columbus ! 
[Enter the Marchioness.] 

MARCHIONESS. 

Here's news. Columbus has returned. Start not ! 
At the court in vain he seeks for justice, 
O the King's a stone, he feels troublesome 
The Admiral's presence ; his poverty 
A reproach, courts of conscience will wear him 



34 Death of the Discoverer. 

By delays. We'll seek him out and lodge him here, 
By force if need be. Why stand so dull ? 

BEATRICE. 

He has but gone. 

MARCHIONESS. 

How gone ? Who has but gone ? 

BEATRICE. 

Columbus. 

MARCHIONESS. 

In my house unknown to me ! 
Why did you let him go ? 

BEATRICE. 

Dressed as a friar 
He came and guessed not that I knew him. 
He's sadly altered from his memory. 

MARCHIONESS. 

Beat you not down his mask ? 

BEATRICE. 

No, I dared not. 

MARCHIONESS. 

Faint heart ! here comes the boy. 

[Enter Fernando.] 



Death of the Discoverer, 35 

BEATRICE. 

Where did he go ? 

FERNANDO. 

With him and an old serving man I went 
To the city gates ; he blessed and kissed me, 
Bade me serve God and king ; love my mother 
And Diego. Who is Diego, mother ? 

BEATRICE. 

Gone from Segovia ! Who was in's train ? 
Rode he in a litter ? 

FERNANDO. 

He went afoot. 

BEATRICE. 

On foot ? O God ! 

FERNANDO. 

Mother, what is it ! 

MARCHIONESS. 

Some water, quick ! She's fainted. 



36 Death of the Discoverer > 

II. 

The Persons. 

Diego Mendez. 
Christopher Columbus 
Beatrice Enriques. 

Valladolid, 1506. 
Scene, — An upper chamber near San Pablo. 



COLUMBUS. ( Waking}^ 
Are you there, Mendez ? 

mendez. 
But come in, my lord ; did I disturb you ? 

COLUMBUS. 

They bring no word from the court ? 

MENDEZ. 

None, nor from my master's son, nor from 
My master's brother. 



Death of the Discoverer, 37 

COLUMBUS. 

Diego knows not, 
Neither his uncle my distress. Mendez 
Have you forgotten the lad Fernando 
That day we fled Segovia ? Would that he 
Were here ! 

MENDEZ. 

Gentle he seemed, yet why my lord ? 

COLUMBUS. 

Nothing, a sick man's fancy. Sit you down. 

MENDEZ. 

The doctor — he has gone without his pay — 
Said you must have rich food and costly wine. 
Where can I find them ? 

COLUMBUS. 

I need them not. 
Only a word of kindness from my king. 
The rest's past usefulness — I need them not. 
But you my faithful Mendez, have you dined ? 

MENDEZ. 

Yes, senor — trouble not. 



38 Death of the Discoverer. 

COLUMBUS. 

Not the first time 
I am concerned for thee, Mendez, my son, 
Loyal and generous friend that in my breast 
Hath kept alive the coal of human love. 
Which else ingratitude had turned to ash. 
Can I forget, — to save my ill-starred life, 
You kept afloat a sorry cockle-shell, 
Scarce fit to ride the broad back of a calm. 
In an impetuous sea and haughty wind 
Four days and forty leagues ? Each day for me 
Spawned myriad anxious hours, each wat'ry league 
Dragged my heart downward as shipwrecking thee. 
And if I deemed you living, 'twas to dread 
You had no food to eat. Devoted heart, 
I dreamed not here in Spain to keep you scant ! 

MENDEZ. 

Feeding upon the past, my lord, a pride 
That you forget not, savors my meat. 
And makes a banquet of a beggar's dish. 



Death of the Discoverer. 39 

COLUMBUS. 

Could I forget ? But I would hear the tale 
Anew, — perchance with creeping age I grow 
Garrulous of wonders, like my Indians 
Who love to sing the labors of their sires, 
Upon the strand after the sun is down. 
Let me hear it. 

MENDEZ. 

My lord the tale is long. 
Yourself might tell it but for weariness. 

COLUMBUS. 

So I'll begin. Like driftwood Afric's storms 
Cast up on Asia, helpless we lay wrecked 
Between the savage shore and savage sea. 
I had no heart to order — I besought 
One brave man to adventure for the rest, 
In a canoe across the pathless gulf. 
And bring our peril to Ovando's ears. 
Who volunteered for this rash service, who ? 
There is one Mendez ! Launched was the canoe 
On the contrary gulf — Jamaica sank 



40 Death of the Discoverer, 

To a blue line behind, with zeal you sped 

Your comrades on their oars laborious, 

Until the horizon blushed rosy red 

With the sun's amorous departing kiss, 

'Twas night and while the others slept, 

You watched and called the rowers turn by turn. 

Aurora waked in anger, and the sea 

Threatened your shallop — 

MENDEZ. 

Yes, and filled it too, 
Till for relief we cast adrift our bread. 
And spilled the calabashes of sweet water. 
So 'scaped the tempest, but a horror worse 
Sprang from the Tropic's womb, — a parching thirst 
Dried up our veins, and all that sultry day. 
We panted 'twixt two suns ; our paddles 
Scarce lapped the ocean, upon their length 
Gasping we lay, — one sailor sank and died 
From labor, heat and thirst. 'Twas then I found 
The little keg your forethought stowed away. 
It saved our lives and cheered us back to toil. 



Death of the Discoverer, 41 

Next day we watched with straining, blood-shot eyes, 

For Navasa, yet, as the third day passed. 

So passed the fourth, till I began to lose 

Track of the hours, or only measured them 

By the pulse beat of hopeless suffering. 

We could not sleep at night, or if we slept 

We dreamed of singing fountains, laughing streams, 

And leapt awake to groan. Now, no water. 

No sacred drop to ease our speech remained, — 

Man by man let fall his paddle, — Despair 

Dug deep his iron talons in our hearts. 

That night I sat watching the horizon, 

Until the moon should rise. The others slept, 

And no one saw the tears of agony 

Or rage I wept that I should fail to bring 

News of your shipwreck to the colony. 

In my soul, chaotic bitterness worked 

To bring forth demons to curse God and man. 

Yet had God pity ; when the moon arose, 

She showed her disk eclipsed by some dark mass. 

Above the ocean's level. As she clomb 



42 Death of the Discoverer, 

That mass remained suspended, a wave's crest 
It was not ! With hoarse wild cries I woke 
My feeble comrades and showed them the land, 
Which fast grew, as if fever, — and 'twas so — 
Lent us new strength. — Sefior, by dawn of day 
We flouted oars and drank ! 

COLUMBUS. 

To Heaven 
For that mercy accorded you I vowed 
A pilgrimage to Rome, — 'tis not fulfilled, 
Nor will it ever. I shall walk no more. 

MENDEZ. 

I pray thee say not so. 

COLUMBUS. 

While you were gone, 
A broken dream warned me my time is brief. 
Prop me up, Mendez, where left I off ? 
Here : {Reading,) " The sovereignty of the seas 
West of a line drawn down from pole to pole. 
My son Diego shall inherit ; 
He dying without issue, they shall pass 



Death of the Discoverer, 43 

Unto his brother, the young Fernando." 
How long since then, Mendez, is he man ? 

MENDEZ. 

My lord, two years, he was but fourteen then. 

COLUMBUS. 

Only two years, but years of poverty ! 

" Revenues of this mesne I thus divide : 

" I give, bequeath to Don Bartholomew, 

" My dear brother, two millions — " Dost thou hear, 

Mendez, two millions ? 

MENDEZ. 

I hear, my lord. 

COLUMBUS. 

You hear and laugh not ? 'Tis a noble jest. 
My poor Mendez ! Forgotten, save by thee. 
An old man dying on a pauper's bed. 
Offers his children millions, distributes 
In his will seas, islands, nations, empires ! 
I swear they're mine to give. Who dare deny't 
Since God gave them to me ? He took them not 
Away, — that did an earthly king ! 



44 Death of the Discoverer, 

My breviary, Alexander's gift, 
I have some words to write to Ferdinand 
Which it may consecrate. Now, Mendez, 
Prop me higher yet, then leave me. 

MENDEZ. 

Are you full strong ? You feel no pain, my lord "^ 

COLUMBUS. 

No pain, a little bitterness of mind 
So near the dregs is natural. Go now. 

[Exit Mendez.] 

And for Mendez, I will make provision. 
Old and last comrade of my voyages. 
You shall be governor of Trinidad, 
I'll ask it of the king. ( Writing^ '^ I beg my king 
"' Whom I have served even to loss of goods — " 
Columbus, that loss weighs heaviest on you 
Which is your least. Truly, so made is man. 
He misses not the great things which were his 
So much as those the meanest slave ranks high. 
A trivial minus irritates his humor 



Death of the Discoverer, 45 

Until it barnacles the man entire. 

The common's never light ; irreparable 

Are the petty woes of life. Once I sighed 

For quiet, a smooth and calm retreat, 

Where worn with voyages, with strifes and seas, 

I might await the summons ; now, I groan 

O'er what should not afflict ; what's to me 

Nearing the grave, the little or the less ? 

Why blind my eyes with glory, rank and power. 

Who as a watcher calmly through a glass, 

Might view the hurtling on of right or wrong, 

As from another planet? Is it true 

I sigh for self alone ? No, oh no ! 

Let man at least be honest to himself — 

I weary most because what I have sought, 

I but in part accomplished. I have griefs 

Which' are not petty. One plaint and all is said : 

I under change of times, unjust tribunals, 

Ungrateful citizens, eat out my heart, 

Nor poverty have I escaped; disease 

Nor sickness ; each bows me down. So shall I die. 



46 Death of the Discoverer, 

Deformed of all I grew with careful art, 

Even my name I think shall not attach 

Unto the world which by God's grace I found. 

Awhile I thought that name rescued in time 

From the common rout and would forever blaze, 

To the Creator's glory as to mine. 

No more I fondly dream, content to ask 

For strength for one last effort — let me die 

No puny death, but one which suits Columbus ! 

I am too proud, mayhap, still will I strain 

The ears of Heaven, God of my fathers. 

Hear my petition ! If 'tis good to Thee, 

Cover my shame with Thy benignancy. 

And take from ills he is too weak too bear 

Thy worshipper ! I pray for death. 

And while I pray I feel it come — 

Death, or his sister. Sleep. (^He sleeps.) 

[Enter Beatrice and Mendez.] 

BEATRICE. 

Surely, not here ? 



Death of the Discoverer, 47 

MENDEZ. 

Or in a poorer place 
He's spent his latter years. 

BEATRICE. 

Blind were my spies, 
Or else his enemies, for I searched in vain 
At Cadiz and Sevilla, where in truth 
Some trace was found, but lost. Is he bed-rid ? 

MENDEZ. 

This is his hour to sleep. 

BEATRICE. 

Watch his calm breath. 
Yet what startles him ? Listen ! 

COLUMBUS. {Sleeping.) 
You see me, Bobadilla, 
Loaded with chains, not by your will, but mine. 
Your brief authority my soldiers urge 
Me to spurn to the length to show you drest 
In this same clanking garment. Did I so. 
Who then would chain the torment of my mind ? 
Men are not wont to treat with mutineers thus, 



4 8 Death of the Discoverer. 

But who shall slay that mutineer, my soul ? 
What you accuse me of I know and care not, 
Havmg felt within an accusation 
Harsher than man can draw. My Indians 
Are witnesses of my crime, their evils 
Are justly fallen on me ; could I buy 
By suffering, their return to freedom, 
I'd wear ten times these chains — 

MENDEZ. 

See, lady, there they are — where e'er he's lived 
Since then, these gyves have been the tapestry. 

BEATRICE. 

O cruel, cruel — 

MENDEZ. 

Soft, he speaks again. 
COLUMBUS. {Sleeping.) 
Ever mirage ! Each day the bows plunge through 
Fantastic horizons. Above my head 
Strange constellations burn, bottomless 
Is the abyss — not boundless — westward still ! 
Yet did I err ! This night my heart is faint. 



Death of the Discoverer, 49 

Day passes day and shapes liks shadows fly 
Through the clear sea, perhaps to mock my quest, 
Or an enchanted land sends forth its ghosts 
To lure me farther on into the Vast 
Where no land is. If I am wrong ! 
Food's scarce ! O God, my latter dream 
Comes like a dreadful face which did oppress 
Me with its sleepless eye. — 

I sailed alone, 
Not even discontent did share my fate, 
And every wave which broke bore on its crest 
A fiend which mouthed me, while the yellow sea 
Frothed curses ; yet on and on and on. 
The phantom ship glutted its sails with wind. 
Dull eyed upon the poop I saw a man 
Kneading his corded hands, shaking his unkempt hair, 
And staring on the salt sea which a voice 
Said he must roam forever — 

What ? Mutiny ! 
I call on Heaven to judge *twixt me and you, 
What is my life save as a pledge for yours ? 



50 Death of the Discoverer. 

Back to your duty. Yet hear me first : 
If in the course of the third day we see 
No rising land I swear I will put back 
The helm for Europe. Clamorous hirelings, 
Ye show the cruel mercy of small minds, 
To make me set a measure on my faith ! 
God made you as ye think. 

Those rushes, whence come they — that hawthorn bough ? 
By the mass, I see a nest built on a branch. 
The wind has cut it but the mother bird 
Sits firm upon the cradle of the waves. 
She never sailed from Spain ! 

BEATRICE. 

He sighs ! 

MENDEZ. 

Madame, well he may. 

COLUMBUS. ^Sleeping?) 
Rodrigo, follow my eyes and see 
Against the dusk of Heaven, a flickering light. 
You see it ! Look again ! You see it too ! 



Death of the Discoverer. 51 

I dare not counsel further, to your cabin. 
Till hope no more deludes I pray you silence. 
Good rest, — Alone ! Alone ! 

MENDEZ. 

His mind will wander now. Oft doth he dream, 
Making of half a century scarce an hour. 

BEATRICE. 

I see him on the deck alone, the eve 
Of Salvador ! 

COLUMBUS. 

Have I done well? Hath God to me 
A mystery vouched which I have not profaned ? 
Let me not now through frailty cheat the end — 
Still were there prophets who deceived themselves — 
This hour is bitterer than first disdain. 
Fain would my heart be back in Genoa, 
Sure from the scorpion tail success doth wear 
As from the fangs of failure. Why choose me ? 
Perceiving me set forth, men called me brave. 
Who only was discreet. What is courage 
Without a ballast of wisdom ? *Tis a cargo 



52 Death of the Discoverer, 

Which never comes to port. With what contempt 

I see myself a traitor to myself ! 

Alas, I'm human ! To-night I tremble 

As one who held the hand-clasp of his God 

Which sudden is withdrawn. Desert me not 

Father in Heaven, nor if 'tis good to Thee 

Suffer Thy son to be the sport of fate ! 

Hell has a remedy — if to-morrow show 

Our lone ship rippling through the landless sea, 

Over the side deliverance offers. 

Hence tempter ! I will quaff the cup. 

How lovely is the night that like a hand 
Lays healing touch upon this fevered head ! 
By day we may not see these myriad stars, 
If it were alway day so would men swear 
There is no other world but earth and sun. 
Night doth reveal God's endless vistas, 
And the philosopher who sees shall say : 
He that hath sown so prodigal the stars, 
Those islands of the sky, hath not the ocean 
Our mimic sky, more niggardly endowed. 



Death of the Discoverer, 53 

O restless thoughts, O fears like angry wasps 

Return not ye so soon again to sting ! 

Yonder is land, land must lie yonder, 

Or if not, wherefore was my mind 

Even from a child the mirror of a world ? 

Wherefore dreamt I, despite my tutors. 

Aye, despite myself, of hidden climes ? 

Of peoples whom no eye save mine had seen. 

And mine a dreamer's ? If I must fail 

At the supreme moment, which my years half-travelled 

Have cruelly attained — why was I born at all ? 

Hush ! Profanation never can prevail 

When prayer has failed to compass. 

Ah, me, ah me ! If I could sleep ! 

These thoughts which lead nowhere, 

But like the maelstrom, circle round and round. 

Suck me to madness. 

Up shines that light again ! 
Grant I dare trust my eyes — Rodrigo saw it, 
Jesu forgive my murmurs ! Is it Asia ? 
Hark the shot ! The sailors see it — land ! 



52;. Death of the Discoverer, 

Land ! Land in sight ! Land, ho ! 

I cannot see for tears my new born world ! 

BEATRICE. 

His transport wakes him, lo, to misery ! 

COLUMBUS. {Starting up.) 
I've had a wondrous dream, I thought I sailed 
But you are here, beloved, 'twas a dream — 
Most life-like — they say our future warns so. 
Draw nearer, Filippa. 

BEATRICE. 

Filippa ! 

MENDEZ. 

Diego's mother, dead these twenty years. 

BEATRICE. 

O, this is bitter ! Leave us together. 
[Exit Mendez.] 

COLUMBUS. 

Give me your hand, Filippa ; I've been sick ? 
So ? But I live still, and this is Lisbon. 
Where's our boy ? Is he with Perestrella ? 



Death of the Discoverer. 55 

BEATRICE, ( Weeping?) 
Yea, my lord. 

COLUMBUS. 

Why do you weep, Filippa ? 

BEATRICE. 

With joy, but not for joy. Tell me your dream, 
But briefly, you're not strong. 

COLUMBUS. 

Methought I had reached that distant shore 

Of which you're pettish, having heard too much, 

But had you looked with me your wonder grew 

Till it o'ertopped the oak. I saw a world 

Naked upon its mother's lap, yet rich 

With what our world calls wealth. 

Where grew the ripest fruits, and where found root 

The greenest amplest trees, the common men 

To make a novel garden for their king. 

Fashioned of gold all fruits, all plants, all trees. 

So light they held the jaundiced stuff, but prized 

The cunning work. These simple Indians, 

By faith and courage I call conquerors. 



56 Death of the Discoverer, 

They seemed not strangers, but God's gift to me 

To bind my service to his Sepulchre. 

Methought I read their past ; obscure as fate, 

Yet legible to one coming in peace, 

For him they dimly sought. Young were they, 

But young in tenderness, — in tradition, 

Old as the Spains. The fathers lived and wrought. 

And dying, bequeathed unto their children, 

A sweet and secret hope to stir their hearts, 

And keep them warm, until the promised sign 

God — for surely it was God — should give. 

Meanwhile they turned their faces to the East. 

One time upon their seers the craving grew 

To know the path whence came they, and whither 

One generation goeth while another mourns. 

These hollowed them a bark and swept to sea 

Braving the wrath of fabled hurricanes. 

Whose prey Correa saw them. Howbeit none returned, 

The people nourished hope, and kept the beach 

Ruddy with fires to cheer the returning bark. 



Death of the Discoverer, 57 

So when they saw us land, bearded and mailed, 

They trembled but with awe, — truly they deemed, 

At last they saw their Argonauts in port. 

Loud rang their acclamation, on the strand 

They bowed and worshipped me ; when I would not. 

They gently brought me to their king, and he 

Fit sovereign of that generous people, 

Halved his dear realm with me — 

Our very steeds were shod with massy gold 

We were so rich. You ask were we content ? 

Changes my dream — A year or more had lapsed, 
Convenient season to allure these men 
To virtue and beget a friendly faith ; 
Convenient too to wile their innocence. 
Like demons sowing broken oaths and lies 
We scourged the land and wheresoe'er we set 
Our feet, the evil scarlet flowers 
Of avarice failed not to burst and bloom. 
At length I saw these unarmed children rise 
Against the conquerors and for defense 



58 Death of the Discoverer, 

Of home and liberty rush to certam death ; 

Yes, I saw them choose to die of hunger 

Rather than take of us who had betrayed them, 

A drop of nourishment. Blood blinded me, 

And sorrow's spur I thought my dream had touched. 

That Europe held reserved. At home 
Priests called me godless, courtiers stole my titles, 
And new adventures sapped my revenues. 
I saw myself, Filippa, old and poor. 
Congealed if not extinguished, and alone. 
You were not there ! 

BEATRICE. 

Alas! 

COLUMBUS. 

A country strange is dreamland ! 

Like purgatory, we walk there alone. 

No hand to guide, no friendly voice to cheer. 

Where were you, Filippa, life of my life. 

That in these filled ambitions had no part ? 

BEATRICE. 

Who knows, my lord ? 



Death of the Discoverer, 59 

COLUMBUS. 

You're here now — closer still — 
Cheek against cheek. It is well, Filippa, 
To have dreamed these gilded ghastly things ; 
Awake I've dreamed too much ; now will I toil 
Without an outer thought, make maps and sell 'em, 
Teach my son Diego, and live for you — 
Oh, what's this ? 

BEATRICE. 

My lord ? 

COLUMBUS. 

You are not Filippa ! 

BEATRICE. 

Alas, I am not. 

COLUMBUS. 

The waking is the dream. Yes, I am old. 
Nor may complain of nature, nor struggle 
For my poor inch of life. I have lived. 
My destiny was there, there in the Occident ! 
Lady, I know you now, you're Beatrice. 



6o Death of the Discoverer, 

BEATRICE. 

Whoe'er may give thee comfort I would be. 

COLUMBUS. 

Madame, I remember ; madame, your thought 
Lies heavy on my conscience. 

BEATRICE. 

Say not so. 
Love, the priest ordained by nature, married us. 

COLUMBUS. 

Shadowy words, wherewith man palliates 
A sinful debt but cannot wipe it out. 

BEATRICE. 

Listen, Columbus, had I more to give — 
He hears me not ! His eyes are far again. 

COLUMBUS. {^Faintly?) 
But a step farther, Diego, my lad — 
Courage ! At that poplar I'll take you up. 
Cheer ! cheer my son — 

BEATRICE. 

He's in the past — 



Death of the Discoverer, 6 1 

COLUMBUS. 

Filippa ! 
[Enter Mendez.] 



MENDEZ. 



Called my master ? 



BEATRICE. 

He called his wife. He's dead. 

MENDEZ. 

Dead ! 

BEATRICE. 

Thou livest. Here's the beginning and the end. 

Creation and fruition of the earth 

Met in this man ; the world's circle's joined. 

Round it will future generations tread, 

Till the new world is peopled like the old, 

All careless of Columbus. 



NOTES 



NOTES. 



He was the man likest that cloudy thing, 

Ferdinand Columbus has minutely described the 
appearance of his father. The discoverer was tall and 
well made, his head large, with an aquiline nose, eyes 
light blue or gray blue, a fresh complexion and red hair, 
though incessant toil and exposure had bronzed the 
former and bleached the latter before he reached the age 
of thirty. Columbus had a majestic presence, with much 
dignity and at the same time affability of manner. In 
discourse he was eloquent, in deportment generally tem- 
perate, but a sally of passion would sometimes hurry him 
into too lively an expression of his sentiments, which 
created enemies for him in the punctilious Spanish 
Court. He was abstemious in his diet, indulged little in 
amusements of any kind, and, in truth, seemed too 
much absorbed by the great cause to which he had con- 



66 Death of the Discoverer, 

secrated his life to allow scope for the lower pursuits 
and pleasures which engage ordinary men. 

On the very day of the departure of the squadron on 
Columbus' third voyage the admiral showed that there 
was a limit to his self-command. He had met with discour- 
aging delays in preparing for this voyage such as would 
have cast down ordinary men. All his plans had been im- 
peded and retarded by petty officials, the more as they 
looked upon him at the time as a man declining in popu- 
larity who might be offended with impunity. Among 
them was one Ximeno Breviesca, accountant of the 
Bishop of Badajos, Juan de Fonseca, who had in charge 
the affairs of the Indies. Well knowing the enmity his 
master bore to Columbus, the accountant assailed the 
admiral with unbridled insolence on the shore as he was 
about to embark. This was the last straw which the 
patience of Columbus could not bear. He struck the 
accountant to the ground and kicked him repeatedly, 
" venting," says Irving, ^^ in this unguarded paroxysm, 
the accumulated griefs and vexations which had long 
rankled in his mind." 



Death of the Discoverer, 67 

Without attempting one by one the lords. 

It would seem that Columbus after he had received 
from Ferdinand and Isabella the answer that *^ although 
they were too much occupied at present to embark in 
his undertaking, yet, at the conclusion of the war (with 
the Moors) they should find both time and inclination 
to treat with him," accepted it as a final refusal. He 
then endeavored to interest noblemen of large estates in 
his scheme of discovery. Among others it is known 
that he made application to the dukes of Medina Sidonia 
and Medina Celi successively, probably thinking that the 
contiguity of their estates to the seashore would dispose 
them to maritime adventure on a vast scale, as it had 
already done in a small way. But neither one of these 
powerful Spaniards would assume a risk which the 
crown declined as too hazardous. 



Would she were living now. 

On the return of Columbus to Spain after his fourth, 
last and most disastrous voyage he heard that the Queen 



6S Death of the Discoverer, 

was dead. In the memoirs of Columbus by his son 
Ferdinand we read : 

*^ The death of his friend on whom he had so confi- 
dently relied for justice was a heavy blow to him, for 
she had always granted him her favor and protection, 
while the King had not only been indifferent, but 
positively unfriendly." 

A few weeks before Columbus set out on this voyage 
he received a gracious letter from Isabella — signed, 
indeed, by both sovereigns, but conceived in her kindly 
spirit — assuring him of their purpose to keep inviolate 
all their engagements with him and to perpetuate the 
inheritance of his honors in his family. This was the 
last letter ever addressed to Columbus by his royal 
mistress. 



Of the Duke-Ad?niral. 
Columbus required his descendants always to sign 
themselves El Almirante Duque. (Navarrete Tom. II., 
p. 229.) In 1680, the Duke of Veragua, then the hon- 
ored head of the family of Columbus, and Captain-Gen- 



Death of the Discoverer, 69 

eral of the kingdom of Valencia, wrote a letter to 
Calderon de la Barca asking for a list of his dramas, by 
which, as a friend and admirer, he might venture to make 
a collection of them for himself. To this he signed him- 
self proudly in the manner ordered by the founder of 
his house. 

Of the two sons of Columbus, Fernando, illegitimate, 
inherited his father's genius, and Diego, his honors and 
estates. The latter married a lady of the great Toledo 
family, niece of the Duke of Alva. The titles of Duke 
of Veragua and Marquis of Jamaica still distinguish 
the family. They are derived from the places visited by 
the admiral in his last voyage. 



The Queen first had the news from Lisbon. 

*^ Let processions be made, festivals held, temples be 
filled with branches and flowers, for Christ rejoices on 
earth as in heaven, seeing the future redemption of souls. 
Let us rejoice, also, for the temporal benefit likely to 
result, not merely to Spain, but to all Christendom." 



70 Death of the Discoverer, 

Letter of Columbus on his arrival at Lisbon to the 
Treasurer Sanchez. 



Ahead marched Indians, 

The wildest and most extravagant ideas were preva- 
lent in Spain regarding the Indians years after Columbus' 
death. If this is not true how could dramas like Lope 
de Vega's " The New World of Columbus," have met 
with forbearing listeners. (Comedias de Lope de Vega, 
Tom. XL, Barcelona, 1618, ff. 143, 144.) The greater 
part of the action of this play passes in the New World, 
and among the personages are American Indians. Before 
the appearance of Europeans among them they sing 
about Phoebus and Diana! and while, from the first they 
talk nothing but Spanish, they frequently pretend, after 
the arrival of the Spaniards, to be unable to understand 
a word of their language. 

Yet " this play," says Mr. Ticknor, in his History of 
Spanish Literature, *^ is not without marks of Lope's 
peculiar talent. The scenes in which the natural feelings 
of the simple and ignorant natives are brought out, and 



Death of the Discoverer, 71 

those in which Columbus appear — always dignified and 
gentle — are not without merit." 



Beneath a Silken Canopy King and Queen, 

It was the middle of April, 1493, when Columbus 
reached Barcelona, where he had been impatiently ex- 
pected. Every window, balcony and housetop which 
could afford a glimpse of him was crowded with spec- 
tators. At noon Columbus entered the city. He was 
accompanied by several of the native islanders, wearing 
their simple barbaric costume, and decorated with col- 
lars, bracelets and anklets of gold rudely fashioned. At 
the gates of the city the authorities of Barcelona and 
the cavaliers in attendance on the court met and escorted 
him to the alcazar of the Moorish kings in the Calle 
Ancha, where Ferdinand and Isabella, under a canopy 
of state, sat awaiting his arrival. As he knelt before 
them they arose, and extending their hands, caused him 
to be seated beside them. They then asked for a recital 
of his adventures, and when he had spoken the King and 



72 Death of the Discoverer. 

Queen, together with all present, prostrated themselves 
on their knees in thanksgiving, while the choir of the 
royal chapel poured forth the solemn strains of the Te 
Deum Laudamus. 



' Tis yours, father. 

The authorities bear out the fact that Columbus, sub- 
sequent to his first voyage, adopted the robe of a Fran- 
ciscan Monk, cord por devocian, and all accessories. To 
gather from them, it appears that the admiral, wearing 
the cord of St. Francis, and consecrating to wars against 
unbelief in Asia the wealth he was seeking in the Indies, 
was a noted figure in the streets of Seville. See Ber- 
naldez. Chronica, c. 131, and the MS. of Navarrete, 
Coleccion de Viages, Tom. i, p. 72; Tom. 11, p. 282. 

Andres Bernaldez's chronicle constitutes excellent 
material for the historian of Columbus in the blush of 
success. In 1496 Columbus was a guest at the house of 
Bernaldez and entrusted to his care valuable manu- 
scripts. The curate of Los Palacios expressly states that 



Death of the Discoverer, 73 

when Columbus came to court in 1496 he was dressed as 
a Franciscan monk. 



He a Spaniard. 
Columbus, as is well known, was not born a Spaniard, 
but whoever reads his letters published in the Navarrete 
Voyages, or in the translation published in Boston, 1827, 
of extracts made from the abstract account of his first 
voyage addressed to Ferdinand and Isabella, will see 
how completely he accepted them for sovereigns and 
how thoroughly he felt himself to be in accord with the 
Spanish character. In fact, the discoverer may be taken 
for a type of the Spaniard of his age, and the highest 
type. His loyalty, religious faith, enthusiasm and love 
of adventure were all Spanish, rather than Italian. 



Denied our sails a harbor. 
The story of the fourth voyage is one of prolonged 
disaster. Columbus had received instructions not to 
touch at St. Domingo (Hispaniola) on his outward voy- 



74 Death of the Discoverer, 

age, but a storm approaching compelled him to lower 
his pride to the churlish governor, Ovando. It was use- 
less, and the governor ordered him out of the harbor. 
This storm, the same which destroyed the fleet of 
Bobadilla and the enemies of Columbus, as well as two 
hundred thousand castellanos of gold, Columbus rode 
out in safety behind the lee of the island. Later, after 
having been defeated in an attempt to establish a colony 
on the mainland, by the ferocity of the savages, he was 
wrecked on the island of Jamaica. There the malice of 
Ovando kept him imprisoned for more than a year, and 
at last he only escaped by freighting a vessel at his own 
expense, in which he re-embarked the remnant of his 
crew. 

Would that the caitiff dared to cross the sea. 
Don Nicholas de Ovando, comendador of Lares of the 
military order of Alcantara, was a man after King Fer- 
dinand's own heart, or rather brain, which was not 
heated by any fanaticism. He judged the colonies of 
Spain in America as valuable according to the amount 



Death of the Discoverer, 75 

of gold they produced — and he estimated the Indians no 
higher than beasts of burden. Avaricious he may have 
been, but there is no charge of dishonesty resting upon 
his character, and no doubt it would have been difficult 
to remove him from the post which, measured by a mon- 
etary standard, he filled so well. Ovando was, besides, 
a man of acknowledged prudence and sagacity, temper- 
ate in his habits, and plausible and politic in his address. 
His administration was the very reverse of Bobadilla's, 
which had been lax in the extreme. 



I found a garden and have left a grave. 

Columbus loved ^e people of the strange continent 
which he had discovered — loved them as his own chil- 
dren, and he frequently writes piteously of their servile 
and unenlightened condition as if in truth they were his 
own. The fact that he earnestly desired that the soil of 
the New World should never be trodden by any foot 
save that of a Roman Catholic Christian, betrays not so 
much bigotry as paternal anxiety. 



76 Death of the Discoverer, 

The defense of Columbus' treatment of the Indians, 
which called forth Isabella's exclamation, *^ By what 
authority does Columbus venture thus to dispose of my 
subjects!" must be left to historians. 



/ am old, but was not Abraham old? 

In the letter to the sovereigns descriptive of his fourth 
voyage (Navarrete, Tom. i, pp. 296, 312) Columbus 
related a vision that he believed had been vouchsafed to 
him for his consolation when he was left alone on a hos- 
tile coast, the other vsssel with his men, which had sailed 
into the mouth of the river at Veragua, having been 
wrecked there. The following is a translation of this 
letter : 

^'I was left solitary on a coast so dangerous with a 
strong fever and grievously worn down. Hope of escape 
was dead within me. I climbed aloft with difficulty, 
calling anxiously and not without many tears for help 
upon your Majesties' captains from all the four winds of 
heaven. But none made me answer. Wearied and still 



Death of the Discoverer. 77 

moaning I fell asleep, and heard a pitiful voice which 
said : * O, fool, and slow to trust and serve thy God, the 
God of all ! What did He more for Moses, or for David 
His Servant ? Ever since thou wast born, thou hast been 
His especial charge. When He saw thee at the age 
wherewith He was content, He made thy name to 
sound marvelously on the earth. The Indies, which are 
a part of the world, and so rich. He gave them to thee 
for thine own, and thou hast divided them unto others as 
seemed good to thyself, for He granted thee power to do 
so. Of the barriers of the great ocean, which were 
bound up with such mighty chains, He hath given unto 
thee the keys. Thou hast been obeyed in many lands, 
and thou hast gained an honored name among Christian 
men. What did He more for the people of Israel when he 
led them forth from Egypt ? Or for David, whom from a 
shepherd He made king in Judea? Turn, thou, then, 
again unto Him, and confess . thy sins. His mercy is 
infinite. 

" ^ Thine old age shall not hinder thee of any great 
thing. Abraham was above a hundred years old when he 



7 8 Death of the Discoverer , 

begat Isaac ; and Sarah, was she young ? Thou callest 
for uncertain help ; answer, who hath afflicted thee so 
much and so often ? God or the world ? The privileges 
and promises that God giveth He breaketh not, nor, after 
He hath received service, doth He say that thus was not 
His mind and that His meaning was other. Neither 
punisheth He, in order to hide a refusal of justice. 
What He promiseth, that He fulfiUeth, and yet more. 
And doth the world thus ? I have told thee what thy 
Maker hath done for thee, and what He doth for all. 
Even now He in part showeth thee the reward of the 
sorrows and dangers thou hast gone through in serving 
others !' All this heard I as one half dead ; but answer 
had I none to words so true, save tears for my sins. 
And whosoever it might be that thus spake, he ended, 
saying, ^ Fear not, be of good cheer ; all these thy griefs 
are written in marble, and not without cause !' And I 
arose as soon as I might, and at the end of nine days 
the weather became calm. " 

This extraordinary letter bears date Jamaica, 7 July, 
1503. 



Death of the Discoverer. 79 

West of a line drawn down from pole to pole. 
In order to forestall the claims of future discoverers, 
especially their rival, King John of Portugal, Ferdinand 
and Isabella, before the second voyage of Columbus, ap- 
plied to the court of Rome to confirm them in the pos- 
session of the islands he had visited as well as neighbor- 
ing islands and the continent yet untrodden by Christians. 
This they did recognizing the ancient authority of the 
pope, as vicar of Christ, to dispose of all countries 
inhabited by heathen nations in favor of Christian 
potentates. 

Alexander the Sixth then sat on the pontifical throne 
and he willingly granted the sanction of the Church to 
its dutiful children, Ferdinand and Isabella. Accord- 
ingly, on May 3, 1493, he published a bull confirming 
them in possession of all lands discovered, or hereafter 
to be discovered by them in the western ocean. On the 
4th of May, Alexander issued a second bull in which he 
defined with precision the lands covered in his grant of 
the preceding day, as all such lands which should be 
discovered to the west and south of an imaginary line, 



8o Death of the Discoverer, 

to be drawn from pole to pole, at a distance of one hun- 
dred leagues to the west of the Azores and Cape Verde 
Islands. By arbitration with the Portuguese this line of 
demarcation was subsequently extended to three hun- 
dred and seventy leagues west of the Cape Verde 
Islands, beyond which, all discoveries should appertain to 
the Spanish nation. 

My breviary — Alexander' s gift. 
Whatever they may have written of Pope Alexander 
to show his degraded moral character, the possession of 
an acute mind which warned him to be among the first 
to recognize success wherever it could be found, has 
never been denied him by historians. Agreeable to his 
custom he hastened to make presents to Columbus and 
invited him to a correspondence. Some of these letters 
are to be found in the Navarrete Collection. One of 
the most interesting is that of date February, 1502, Tom. 
II, p. 282, wherein Columbus airs his greatest extrava- 
gance, the project of a crusade for the recovery of the 
Holy Sepulchre. 



Death of the Discoverer, 8i 

/ swear they're mine to give. 

By the definitive arrangement concluded with the 
sovereigns at Santa Fe, April 17th, 1492, Columbus was 
constituted their admiral, viceroy and governor-general 
of all such islands and continents as he should discover 
in the western ocean, with the privilege of nominating 
three candidates, for the selection of one by the crown, 
for the government of each of these territories. Columbus 
was to be vested with exclusive right of jurisdiction over 
all commercial transactions within his admiralty and was 
to be entitled to one-tenth of all the products and profits 
within the limits of his discoveries. A subsequent 
ordinance settled the official dignities above enumerated 
on him and his heirs forever. 

Prescott, Ferdinand and Isabella, Part i, chap. xxi. 



Even I think my name shall not attach. 

This scarcely means that Columbus foresaw the good 
fortune of Americus Vespucius, whose name was to be 



82 Death of the Discoverer, 

bestowed on the New World. Writers on events, the 
first who differed from the old chronicles in that they 
began to deal in true history, are known in the history of 
Spanish literature by works on the discoveries as early 
as 1509, and they doubtless had forerunners among the 
men who embarked for the Indies with Columbus on the 
first voyage. 

The Historidores Prirnitivos early show a neglect or a- 
failure to give Columbus his full honors. The volumin- 
ous documents and letters left by Fernando Cortez el 
Conquistador naturally enough, considering their author^ 
set forth his own services. He reached the New World, 
in 1504, but he first wrote in about 15 19, letters which, 
have great value, but exist only in part. 

Francisco Lopez de Gomara in his own time was 
stigmatized as a creature of Cortez, writing only what 
his master told him and anxious to keep the favor of 
that master. He is the oldest of the regular historians 
of the discoveries and conquests. Yet his Conquest 
of New Spain is in truth a life of Cortez, and 
under this title it was reprinted by Bustamente, in 



Death of the Discoverer, 83 

Mexico, in 1826. This work was first printed in Spain 

in 1553. 

Oviedo is another adventurer who early came to 
America, being sent to San Domingo in 15 13 as a 
supervisor of gold smeltings. His " Natural and General 
History of the Indies," was published in 21 books, in 

1535. 

This rambling and discursive writer had little to say 
of Columbus, but, as its title implies, his work is a series 
of accounts of the natural condition, aboriginal inhabit- 
ants and political affairs in America. The full name of 
this historian is Gonzolo Fernandez de Oviedo. 



You see me^ Bobadilla. 

In July, 1500, Don Francisco de Bobadilla was sent 
to the colony by the sovereigns with powers intended to 
heal the factious strife there. At this time the colonial 
affairs were in the most deplorable condition and rumors 
were every day reaching Spain of the distractions of the 
community, accompanied with severe imputations on the 



84 Death of the Discoverer. 

conduct of Columbus and his brother Bartholomew, who 
were loudly accused of oppressing both Spaniards and 
Indians, and of sacrificing the public interests in the 
most unscrupulous way to their own. Two various, but 
equally sincere accounts of the rebellion against Colum- 
bus's authority vested in the person of his brother, may 
be read in the works of Humboldt and Prescott. We 
are concerned in the dramatic feature of the episode 
and need only say that no more unhappy choice of an 
agent, intended to heal dissension, could, in the judg- 
ment of contemporary and modern historians, have been 
chosen than Bobadilla. The brief authority bestowed 
on him swelled him up with unmeasurable insolence, 
and he interpreted his functions as those of a judge to 
execute the law on Columbus as if he had been a con- 
victed criminal. He made no pretense at affecting the 
forms of a legal trial, but as soon as he arrived at the 
island, ordered Columbus to be manacled and thrown 
into prison. The admiral submitted without resistance 
and went on board a vessel, which sailed for Spain, in 
chains, which were not once taken off during the passage. 



Death of the Discoverer, 85 

Ferdinand Columbus testifies that his father kept the 
fetters in which he was brought home hanging up in an 
apartment of his house as a perpetual memorial of 
national ingratitude, and, when he died, ordered them to 
be buried in the same grave with himself. 



Still were there prophets who deceived themselves, 

Columbus believed himself to be inspired, yet none 
who wishes to know him truly has failed to mark the 
sharp contradiction between two sides of his character. 
He was the dreamy prophet, but he was also the bold and 
skillful navigator. In all that he did, said and wrote 
there may be found a singular mixture of practical judg- 
ment and wild speculation. It is not far fetched to 
suppose that in one character he doubted himself in 
the other. As a practical seaman he must have fre- 
quently doubted the visions which enabled him to see 
beyond the waste of waters that broad continent which 
his imagination deemed needful to balance the world, 
but happily his courage was so great that the terrors of 



S6 Death of the Discoverer, 

an unsailed ocean only spurred him on. Happily his 
adventurous spirit rose equal to prophecy and he saw 
from the outset what he at last so gloriously accom- 
plished. In the subsequent voyages no disappointment 
of his hopes really cast him down. He rose from one 
disillusion on the wings of another. These enthusiastic 
soarings of the imagination carried him across the un- 
known seas to search for a continent. Without them he 
might, like other sages, have been content to reason 
calmly in his closet about the probability of a continent 
existing in the west. 



Even from a child the mirror of a world, 

Spanish writers, whether of history, verse or romance, 
have delighted to accept the suggestion — grateful to all 
religious minds — that Columbus was moved by Divine 
inspiration. This was founded as we know on the per- 
sonal convictions of Columbus himself. In Spain, how- 
ever, the common traditions are that Columbus 
was born at Nervi, and that he received from a dying 



Death of the Discoverer, 87 

pilot at Madeira the charts that led him to his grand 
adventure. 



/ saw a world 

Naked upon it's mother's lap. 

Several passages in the letters of Columbus show that 
he had a love for the beautiful in nature and the pen of 
a poet to describe it. In his account of his third 
voyage, to the King and Queen he describes the newly 
discovered continent of South America in rich and 
beautiful language. This account contains the famous 
passage about the Orinoco River which he thought 
issued out of the terrestrial paradise. (Navarrete, Col., 
Tom. I, pp. 256, etc.) 



On the strand^ 

They bowed and worshiped me. 

In Columbus' speculations about the prophecies, 
(Navarrete, Tom. 1 1, pp. 260-273) we find that he thought 
himself called on to fulfill that in the eighteenth 



88 Death of the Discoverer, 

psalm, which reads thus : " Thou hast made me the head 
of the heathen ; a people whom I have not known shall 
serve me. As soon as they hear of me, they shall obey 
me ; the strangers shall submit themselves unto me." 
vv. 43, 44. 



Convenient too, to wile their innocence. 

Civilized Europe in its treatment of the Indians of 
America cannot put in the plea of ignorance. It was in- 
structed from the first by Bartolome de las Casas, a 
Sevillian gentleman who went to the Indies in 1498 or no 
later than 1502, and from the time of his arrival in 
Hispaniola made himself the defender of the Indians 
who were wasting away under the severity of their labors 
and servitude. Las Casas published "A Very Short 
Account of the Ruin of the Indies," in which the 
author's fervor in depicting the wrongs and sufferings of 
a gentle race, brought all Europe to a sense of Spain's 
injustice. He followed this with other treatises on the 
same subject and, in fact, he never ceased to agitate it 



Death of the Discoverer, 89 

by tongue and pen until his death, at the ripe age of 92, 
at Madrid, in 1566. 



Like demons sowing broken oaths. 

While the national Spanish feeling in regard to 
America was that of a world rescued from heathendom, 
there were not wanting writers who tore the veil of the 
hypocritical colonists aside, and under that 'twas '* but 
base avarice that spurred them on." In ^^ El Nuevo 
Mundo, Jorn i. Lope de Vega wrote : (In the charac- 
ter, indeed, of Idolatry who is supposed to be repelling 
the introduction of the Spaniards and their religion into 
his particular realm.) 

Religion is the color and the cloak ; 
But, gold and silver, hid within the earth, 
Are all they truly seek and strive to win. 









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